


And We Did Not Walk Away Unscathed

by SilverMirror12



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMirror12/pseuds/SilverMirror12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus advanced steadily. There was no compassion, sympathy or mercy in his blank eyes. His outfit and makeup gleamed under the summer sun, reminding Alec of creatures who wrapped their poison in the brightest colors possible.</p><p> <em>(Alec and Magnus try to kill each other, then try to live with themselves.)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [And We Did Not Walk Away Unscathed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126023) by [Batty_Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batty_Blue/pseuds/Batty_Blue)



> Major thanks to [thisissirius](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius) for beta reading. <3

Electric blue filled Alec’s vision before the air around him throbbed. The pressure made him stumble, but his training allowed him to turn a would-be trip into a seamless roll behind a tree. His seraph blade glowed white-hot at his side.

“MAGNUS!” A shot of fire burst through the trunk, raining splinters onto Alec’s head. “Magnus, stop, it’s me! _It’s Alexander_!”

Not even the fullness of Alec’s name triggered a response from Magnus. Grass sizzled and blackened beneath his boots. The air was thick with mundanes screaming and the smell of ozone.

Alec swallowed and readjusted his sweaty grip around the handle of his blade. He’d come to Central Park for a date, which meant his bow was back in the Institute. Even if he wanted to strike back against Magnus, Alec would be forced to do so in close quarters. The smell of burning foliage reminded him how suicidal that would be. He risked a glance over his shoulder.

Gone was the warm gold of Magnus’s real eyes, replaced with harsh and poisonous green. Despite lacking pupils or even, it seemed, the ability to blink, they were still the most expressive things about him. It was as if someone had scraped out every piece of the man Magnus was, leaving behind only demonic blood. The sight of that… _void_ wearing Magnus’s skin made Alec’s stomach lurch.

When the air began to shimmer with heat, Alec threw himself into a run, deliberately causing more noise than he normally would. He’d been trying to keep Magnus limited to their small battleground for the past twenty minutes, ever since Magnus snapped his fingers and nearly impaled Alec with a spike erupting from the ground. Since then, Alec figured out that Magnus was only focused on him; if Alec kept away from the humans, so would Magnus.

Except now Alec was left with no bow, no space, and no backup. He glared at the decapitated body several feet to his left. The Circle brand was still visible on the man’s stump of a neck.

A Circle member too fanatic for even Valentine. Alec didn’t think such a thing was possible. Whatever the man had done to lose Valentine’s favor, he’d thought he could get it back by presenting Valentine with an army of brainwashed Downworlders to act as kamikaze soldiers. Alec only half-listened to the man’s monologuing, too focused on trying to break through to Magnus. When it became clear that nothing was working, Alec switched tactics, launching himself at the ex-Circle member. His seraph blade had cut through the man’s neck like warm butter.

Except Magnus didn’t wake up.

And the only options left available to Alec were…unthinkable. At _best_.

“Magnus, _please_.” Alec kept moving, hoping the invisibility rune he’d hastily drawn on himself would buy him some time. “You know me! You _love_ me! And I love you! _I love you, Magnus!_ ”

There were a dozen scenarios in Alec’s mind about how he’d first tell Magnus that he loved him. This was not one of them. Yet, silver lining, Alec was so focused on getting through to Magnus that he barely registered what he was saying. He didn’t stutter. He didn’t hesitate. His nerves were too frayed at the thought that Magnus would remain like this to twist his tongue into knots. Yet even that declaration fell on deaf ears. Magnus prowled through the trees, hunting down Alec’s voice.

“Did you hear me?” Alec didn’t recognize his own voice. This thin, desperate thing, like tracing paper pulled tight. “Do you remember when you said it to me? It was on the balcony at home three months ago, after I first moved in—Magnus, please, you have to remember!”

Magnus twisted abruptly and threw out his hand. Alec tried to dodge, but was a second too slow. He screamed in pain as blue fire slammed into his right side. His leg crumpled under him like wet tissue, the ground rising up to punch him as Alec fell face-first. He felt his nose crunch, and blood immediately wet his upper lip. Panting, Alec raised himself onto dirty elbows, and looked over his shoulder. Magnus advanced steadily. There was no compassion, sympathy or mercy in his blank eyes. His outfit and makeup gleamed under the summer sun, reminding Alec of creatures who wrapped their poison in the brightest colors possible.

There was no way Alec could evade Magnus now, not with his leg shriveling under magical flame. Magnus would catch him, and Magnus would kill him. Maybe that was the only thing to bring him back to himself. Maybe, with his mission complete, Magnus would wake up.

Alec’s stomach plummeted. If the spell _was_ broken upon his death, then Magnus would wake up to find his lover’s corpse sprawled at his feet. He’d wake up to blood on his hands and the scent of burning flesh. He’d wake up to the realization that he’d killed the first person in centuries to open his heart. Alec knew Magnus well enough by now to know how that would destroy him.

That couldn’t happen. That _must not_ happen.

There was no more time to defend or dodge. No more words that Alec could think of to break through the fog in Magnus’s mind. Alec’s only options were to die or…or…

Alec still had his blade. To use it would shatter something inside him, break him irreparably. He knew that. Yet as Magnus drew closer, Alec’s thoughts, disorganized from desperation and pain, whispered another truth.

He could take it.

The guilt, the self-loathing, the agony of loss…Alec could shoulder it all. It wasn’t that Alec thought himself emotionally stronger than Magnus. On the contrary, Alec was convinced that the strength of Magnus’s character was even greater than the power of his magic. But everyone had their limits, and Magnus shouldn’t be forced to confront his. Not if it was within Alec’s power to stop it. Even if it meant he was sentenced to live on after doing the unforgiveable.

Given the choice, Alec would choose his own suffering over Magnus’s every time.

Alec held on to that thought as Magnus raised his hand to land the final blow. Screwing his eyes shut, Alec poured all of his resolve into swinging his arm in a wide, steady arch as soon as Magnus was close enough to reach. The seraph blade cleaved across Magnus’s stomach, unleashing a torrent of hot blood. Magnus’s mouth dropped open in surprise and pain, and he looked down at himself. Alec heaved into the dirt at the first sign of an organ.

Like a broken lightbulb, the green flickered back to gold. Magnus dropped to his knees, and stared at Alec in confusion.

“Alexan…”

Alec sobbed as Magnus tipped over. He gathered Magnus’s body into his arms, trying to stop the bleeding, and blinking harshly when spots began coalescing before his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m _so sorry_!”

But neither Magnus nor the approaching darkness heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Good news, bad news, and worse news.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Explain,” he demanded. His voice was hoarse from disuse and thinly veiled panic. Magnus reminded himself that Clary was a friend first and a Shadowhunter second—or so he thought. Now was not the time to discover that he was wrong.

Awareness roused Alec with all the speed of molasses dripping from a spoon. The first thing he registered was that he wasn’t at home. The bed was too hard, and Alec’s side was too cold. Magnus usually slept in later than Alec, unless he had a client, and more than once Alec woke up to find Magnus wrapped around him like an octopus. He soon found it harder to sleep on Institute nights without that warm weight draped across his body. Magnus was—

 _Magnus_.

Alec’s eyes shot open, and he immediately began struggling into a sitting position. He couldn’t feel his right leg, but wasn’t ready to look and see if it was numbed or removed altogether. Either way, it proved a momentary blessing, allowing Alec to push himself up with minimal pain.

“Alec!” Jace’s hands cupped Alec’s shoulders, holding him still when Alec tried to throw off his blankets. “Hey, look at me, it’s just me. _Alec_.”

Alec ignored him, twisting his head left and right, hoping, though he had no right to….

But Magnus wasn’t there. He wasn’t…he wasn’t _anywhere_ anymore.

_Because I killed him._

Keening with anguish, Alec began beating his fists against his forehead. Suddenly all he could think about was the sight of Magnus, gutted like a fish and looking at Alec with such innocent surprise. No matter how hard Alec hit himself, it was all he could see.

“Hey! No no no, don’t do that—” Jace grabbed Alec’s wrists and pulled them away. Alec tried to buck him off, but Jace held Alec’s fists tight against his chest. “Alec, _stop_ , you’re _home_! You’re okay!”

Alec yelled in frustration, because it _wasn’t_ okay, how could Jace not _see_ that? After fighting savagely for a few moments, Alec’s injured body ran out of steam, causing him to deflate against Jace. His chest felt heavy, and his breathing came in thick, ragged pants.

“Sorry…” Tears felt onto his and Jace’s joined hands. Once he started, the sobs ripped themselves from Alec with unforgiving brutality. He curled inward under the weight of his guilt. “I had to! He was gonna—and I couldn’t let him, I couldn’t—I’m _sorry_ …”

Jace pulled Alec closer as gently as he could, and held him. Alec hid his face in Jace’s shirt, too lost to grief to care about who saw him whimpering. “Sorry…I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to, I didn’t _want to_ , please believe me….”

“Okay,” said Jace. He rubbed Alec’s back steadily. “Okay, yeah. I believe you, Alec. Everyone believes you.”

Alec shook his head, twisting the fabric of Jace’s t-shirt in his hands. Magnus was _dead_. Nothing would ever be okay again.

“Hey. I brought lunch—” Izzy’s voice cut off abruptly, and Alec heard her heels racing across the floor a second later. Jace didn’t let go, and Izzy didn’t ask, but when Alec turned his body Jace released him without hesitation.

“Izzy,” Alec moaned, wrapping his arms around her like he wasn’t a foot taller and two years older.

“I’m here, big brother,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Jace’s hand squeezed Alec’s shoulder. “ _We’ve_ got you.”

* * *

 Magnus jerked awake on a pillow damp with sweat, inside a room he didn’t recognize. He groaned at the unrelenting pounding behind his eyelids.

 _I’ve had hangovers more pleasant than this,_ he thought. He frowned at the unfamiliar stone walls. Did he wake up in a dungeon? It wouldn’t be the first time, but those at least guaranteed an enjoyable prelude. One that Magnus actually _remembered_. He lifted his hand to rub his forehead, and froze at the glowing white band around his wrist.

It _was_ a dungeon, then. And Magnus recognized the runes carved into the shackle’s surface: runes to suppress magic, runes to hinder speed, runes to keep him exactly where he was.

Nephilim runes.

“Magnus?”

He rolled his head to the side, and shook his wrist under Clary’s nose.

“Explain,” he demanded. His voice was hoarse from disuse and thinly veiled panic. Magnus reminded himself that Clary was a friend first and a Shadowhunter second—or so he thought. Now was _not_ the time to discover that he was wrong.

“How much do you remember?” Clary looked tired; her hair framed her face in little flyaway wisps, and dusky shadows were painted under her eyes. Magnus glared at her and huffed—annoyance was easier than fear—before searching his foggy memory.

“I was with a client,” he began, and stopped short. There was nothing after that. Why was there nothing? Disturbed, Magnus shifted his body and tried to sit up.

Pain shot through Magnus’s nerves, so intense that it whited out his vision. He cried out, falling back onto the bed and swearing in Chthonian when even that movement caused his stomach to ignite with agony.

“Don’t try to move!” Clary implored him. “She said not to.”

Magnus gingerly eased the sheet off himself. He was shirtless, with thick bandages wrapped around his abdomen. He could feel stitches pulling against his flesh with every movement. There was a subtle, medicinal scent around the area; Magnus recognized it as one of Catarina’s salves.

“Your ‘client’ was a Circle member,” explained Clary. She spat the term like it was poison. Magnus could’ve loved her for that, had he not gone deathly still upon the bed. The world narrowed to only Clary’s mouth, her voice echoing in Magnus’s head when she added, “He took over your mind. Ordered you to—to kill a Shadowhunter.”

Blood drained from Magnus’s face as he stared at her. He tried to deny it, because _no_ Circle member could ever make a High Warlock—make _Magnus_ their tool. The implications alone made him want to start screaming again, and this time, never stop. But his mouth twisted instead, and Magnus barely managed to roll onto his side before he vomited over the edge of the bed. There was next to nothing left in his stomach, which trembled with pain at Magnus’s heaving, but he remained bowed over for several minutes. Clary rubbed his sweaty back, saying nothing.

“Where is Alexander?”

Clary’s hand stilled on his back. Her demeanor shifted into something apprehensive and sad, like a doctor forced to tell a family that their child didn’t make it.

“Magnus, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

**_No._ **

_No, no, no…_

“He’s alive!” Clary hastened to add when Magnus looked like he was going to be sick again. “Alec’s alive. I should’ve lead with that, I’m so sorry.”

“But I hurt him,” Magnus whispered. It was written all over Clary’s downturned mouth. “I hurt him, didn’t I?”

Clary helped ease him back on the mattress. “His leg suffered some pretty severe burns. He only woke up yesterday, but he’s still a little out of it.” She began looking for something to clean up Magnus’s sick. “Jace told me he’s devastated over what he did to you.”

“What he did to _me_?” Magnus repeated incredulously. “I could’ve—I tried to kill him!” Magnus scrubbed his heels against his eyes. The glow of his shackle pierced through his eyelids. “I suppose that explains this,” he muttered.

“No one but the two of you knows what really happened,” said Clary. “The Clave wanted you under guard until ‘the investigation is closed’.” She mimed quotation marks in the air. “We couldn’t convince them to let you wake up at home, or by Alec in the infirmary. But you don’t deserve to be watched like some sort of criminal.” Clary gestured at herself. “At the very least, you should hear what happened from friends.”

Unable to bear the sight of his wrist, Magnus crossed his arms over his eyes instead, until only his mouth was visible. He listened to the sounds of Clary cleaning for a while, before remembering what had caused him to wake up in the first place.

“I had a dream,” he confessed. “A nightmare. I was standing in a red field, and the air was hot enough to burn my lungs from the inside. Alec was there. I tried to reach him, but the blood on the ground was too slippery. I couldn’t get through.” Magnus let out a shaky sigh. “That…wasn’t a dream, was it?”

“You fought in Central Park. The Clave has been frantic trying to contain all the mundane witnesses.”

Magnus didn’t raise his arms. “Dead,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Is the bastard dead?”

“Yes,” said Clary. “Alec killed him.”

“Good,” whispered Magnus savagely. He tried to breathe, but it was oddly hitching. His eyes burned again. “ _Good_.”

The mattress depressed as Clary sat on it. “Magnus,” she said softly, tugging his elbow away just enough to see that she held a bottle in her hand. The writing on the label was Catarina’s. “If you want to go back to sleep for a bit…”

Magnus tried to laugh, but it came out as a sound too wretched. “You’re an angel, Clary Fairchild.”

Clary smiled sadly as Magnus downed the bottle. “Half-angel, but thank you.”

* * *

 When Magnus opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of Raphael Santiago’s crotch.

He squeezed them shut, grimacing and hoping that Raphael didn’t say anything. (Magnus knew better than to assume Raphael didn’t know he was awake.) He could hear Raphael’s protégé—Simeon? Shawn?—chattering away on his other side, and Magnus wasn’t nearly healed enough to deal with _that_ level of energy yet.

When enough time passed that Magnus could be reasonably sure Raphael was going to keep his secret, he stole another look; one that was _higher_ this time.

Raphael was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glaring at Magnus like he could intimidate Magnus’s shredded insides into fixing themselves. Even if Samson most likely dragged him there, Magnus was touched. He resolved to not get as much glitter on everything Raphael owned for at least a month after he left this godforsaken place. (Which they both knew he did on purpose, because if Magnus Bane wanted his outfit to stay flawless, including every speck of glitter, it would remain just that).

Without warning, Raphael straightened. “Someone’s coming.”

There was a pause as Saul cocked his head, trying to hear.

“Multiple someones?” he asked. Raphael nodded and, to Magnus’s surprise, indulged Stephen with a very small, proud smile. Most people wouldn’t notice the difference, but to Magnus, Raphael might as well have beamed.

“I’ll go take a look,” said Clary. Ah, so that was who Sebastian was talking to.

“We know you’re awake, Bane,” said Raphael after the door clicked shut.

Scott blinked. “We do?”

Raphael made sure his eye-roll was spectacular and noticeable.

Magnus opened his eyes properly. “I didn’t feel like being sociable, Raphael.”

“That’s how we know you’re not well,” Seth joked. Magnus and Raphael stared at him until his laughter puttered away into an awkward cough. “Um. Too soon?”

“Did you hear me? You can’t—hey!” A new set of footsteps, jogging this time and stopping just outside the door. “ _You can’t go in_.”

“This is Clave business, Clarissa Fairchild. I absolutely _can_.”

Magnus blanched, and Raphael bared his fangs. Even Spencer’s posture became more defensive.

The Inquisitor.

“I told you, he’s sleeping. I’m not going to let you march in and interrogate him like some sort of criminal!”

“Is she actually blocking the door?” Magnus whispered wonderingly. “Against _Imogen Herondale?_ ”

“That’s Clary for you,” said Shane proudly. Raphael looked like he was too busy working to keep his jaw closed.

“He nearly killed a Shadowhunter and endangered the lives of several more mundanes. What exactly would _you_ call that?”

“Magnus wasn’t in control of himself. Take it up with _Valentine’s fanboy_ who thought it was okay to turn a person into a living puppet!”

“Magnus is a Downworlder.” Imogen didn’t need to finish her sentence; _and Downworlders aren’t people_. “And he will be put on trial like any Downworlder who breaks the Accords.”

“But Alec already said this was mind control!”

“Alexander Lightwood made his allegiances perfectly clear when he left his Shadowhunter bride for a warlock. His testimony is unreliable.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“ _Dios_ , I may start to _like_ her,” Raphael realized. He sounded vaguely horrified at the thought.

“Let her in, biscuit,” Magnus called.

The door swung open (and yes, it looked like Clary _had_ been bodily blocking Imogen’s way) and the Inquisitor swept in. She didn’t even look at Stanley or Raphael. “Magnus Bane,” she addressed, “The Clave has determined you fit enough to stand trial for the attempted murder of Alexander Lightwood, as well as risking the exposure of our world to dozens of mundanes.”

Sergio flew up. “You _know_ that wasn’t his fault! You just want an excuse to hang a Downworlder!”

“Simon,” Raphael warned (yes, _that_ was it). Imogen turned her icy gaze on Simon, but the fledgling didn’t flinch. Magnus was impressed.

“Alec’s going to be fine, and Izzy told me the Clave managed to contain all the witnesses. You’ve got _nothing_ to—”

“No.”

Everyone turned to look at Magnus. Imogen raised a contemptuous eyebrow.  “Excuse me?”

Magnus dropped his glamour. Imogen’s stance shifted subtly, but immediately, into something more combative. Vicious pride lanced through Magnus for a moment at the thought that the great Inquisitor thought he threatening even when confined to a bed and slit open.

“You heard me.”

“You nearly _killed_ a _Shadowhunter_ ,” Imogen reminded him.

Magnus took a slow, deep breath through his nose. He fisted his hands in the sheets so they wouldn’t tremble. “Believe me, Inquisitor, I’m _quite_ aware of that. That doesn’t mean I’ll stick my head into the Clave’s noose.”

“You don’t have a choice, warlock.”

“This was a Circle plot. You remember the Circle, don’t you?” Magnus’s smile was poisonous. “Valentine’s followers? Your _fellow Nephilim_?”

Imogen’s nostrils flared. “The Clave has severed all ties with Valentine. You know that. His existence—”

“‘Is a threat to us all,’ yes, yes, so you say.” Magnus waved his hand, though it lacked its usual verve. “But a larger one to the Downworld, which will be weakened if you lock me up.”

“You have a very high opinion of yourself, Bane,” sneered the Inquisitor.

“I’m the _High Warlock of Brooklyn_ ,” Magnus snapped. “The warlocks of this city look to me for protection. I can’t do that if I’m too busy playing along with your racist farce.”

“Then you will be arrested.”

Magnus held up his wrist. “And what exactly would you call this?”

“Insurance.” Imogen leveled a cold look at him. “If this affair is as biased as you claim, it’s in your best interests not to make it worse for yourself, isn’t it?”

Clary’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously? You’re _that_ shameless about it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Imogen coolly replied.

Magnus forced himself to laugh. “Well. I appreciate the honesty, at least.”

“One week, Bane.” Imogen turned toward the door. “I suggest you begin looking for a lawyer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Old friends return, and Alec returns a favor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could they say to his face that Alec had _done enough_?
> 
> As long as his lover looked like that, Alec hadn’t done a damn thing.

“Going somewhere?”

Alec looked up, caught in the act of testing his weight on his still-healing leg. Lydia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, with a fond smile on her face.

“Lydia? What are you doing here?”

The smile disappeared. “You don’t know? Of course you don’t,” Lydia answered herself. “The Clave is putting Magnus on trial for what happened. I’m here to represent him, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

“He’s alive?” Alec was grateful that he hadn’t managed to stand yet. Dangerous hope choked his words; Alec had to swallow before he could continue. “M-magnus is _alive_? You’re sure?”

Lydia’s eyebrows rose. “No one told you?”

“I didn’t…exactly ask,” Alec admitted dazedly. Everything about that memory seemed so _final,_ lethal certainty written in red and an aborted attempt at Alec’s own name. “I thought I had killed him. It wasn’t…something I needed repeated.”

Understanding softened Lydia’s expression, and she shook her head. “No, he’s alive. As I understand it, Catarina Loss worked for almost three days straight to save him, but she managed it. He’ll have a scar, but he’ll recover.”

Alec buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t kill him,” he whispered. A trembling, giddy laugh escaped him. “I didn’t kill him!” Then Lydia’s other words registered, and Alec’s head snapped up. “Wait, why the hell is he being put on _trial_? He was under mind control!”

“The Clave believes otherwise,” said Lydia.

“I was _there_!” Alec tried to stand again. “Help me, I need to go talk to them—”

“Alec.” Lydia gently pushed him back down on the bed. “They know you were there, but they’re unwilling to accept your testimony alone. You two fought in _Central Park_. The damage control that’s been happening during the past few days is unlike anything the Shadow World has seen. The Clave demands someone be held accountable for it all.”

“Then blame the bastard who cursed Magnus in the first place!” Alec growled. His hands fisted in the sheets, and Lydia’s hand pressed harder on his shoulder.

“You already delivered a different kind of justice to him,” she reminded him. “A kind he absolutely deserved, but it still doesn’t help our current situation.”

Damn it. _Damn it!_ This was the sort of fallout Alec tried to protect Magnus from in the first place. He looked imploringly at his ex-fiancée.

“So what _will_ help?”

Lydia sat beside him on the bed. “I need to hear your version of what happened. Everything.”

* * *

“Harlan Graves?” Magnus repeated.

“Yeah, they identified the body this morning,” said Clary over a cup of blue gelatin. Apparently it was homemade from Jocelyn, who’d heard about the soft diet Magnus was restricted to until his wound healed completely. Magnus would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched; most Nephilim wouldn’t care if he starved or not, much less the quality of the meals he was receiving.

“Lydia tracked down his last known address, and we’re going to look for any evidence he may have left behind, _before_ the Clave sends their own people in to sabotage things.”

Magnus cocked his head. “The Clave doesn’t know already?”

Clary grinned. “Lydia’s conveniently forgetting to tell them. She said it isn’t her problem if the prosecution neglects its own investigation. She’s really something.”

The clear admiration in Clary’s voice made Magnus chuckle around his spoon.

“Yes, she is,” he agreed.

Three soft knocks cut off any further conversation. Magnus looked up to see Jace leaning in the doorway. It was the first time Magnus had seen him since he woke up, although that was hardly surprising. Magnus had nearly killed Jace’s parabatai—something that was much harder to forgive than harming a friend. Even Isabelle had been scarce, visiting Magnus only twice and never staying long.

_(“I know it wasn’t your fault,” she admitted. “And I want to forgive you, I do, but it’s just…hard right now. You know?”_

_Magnus did know.)_

“Ready to go?” Jace asked Clary. She nodded, setting aside her empty cup and beginning to stand.

“Before you rush off,” Magnus cut in, “I need to talk to your boyfriend, biscuit. In private.”

Clary’s eyebrows rose. “What about?”

“Private,” Magnus repeated.

Clary looked at Jace, who shrugged. “It’s okay. Izzy’s in the armory; I’ll meet you there.”

She nodded, pausing to kiss Jace on the cheek before walking out. Jace stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him.

“What’s this about, Magnus?” Jace asked.

“I’ll be blunt with you. I don’t yet know what sort of spell was placed on me to turn me against Alec.” Magnus breathed deeply through his nose, counting backwards from ten to keep his heart rate steady in preparation for what he was about to say. To his credit, Jace didn’t rush him. “More importantly, I don’t know if it’s entirely gone.”

Jace’s expression darkened. “You think you’ll turn again,” he guessed.

Magnus raised his wrist; the white bracelet stood out against his brown skin. “Hopefully this would dissuade any further murder attempts, but if not…. I need you to promise me something. I know you and Isabelle have remained by Alexander’s side.” Magnus looked Jace in the eyes. “If I change again, I want you to kill me. Permanently, this time. I want your word on that.”

Frowning, Jace stared at Magnus like the warlock’s true intentions would reveal themselves under intense enough scrutiny. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re his parabatai. I can count on you to put his safety above all else, even if your actions cause him misery.”

“Alec’s already miserable,” Jace informed him. “He thinks you hate him.”

“What? That’s not…no.” Magnus shook his head. “ _Never_.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” Jace was silent for a moment. “Okay, yeah. If you turn again, I’ll fight to kill.”

Magnus rested back against the pillows gratefully. “Thank you.”

* * *

Alec hobbled as fast as he could down the hall, ignoring the burning protests of his leg, or the way his stolen crutches pressed painfully into his armpits. They didn’t matter; Alec would get to the courtroom on willpower alone if he had to, but like _hell_ was he going to lay in a hospital bed while Magnus may be sentenced to imprisonment or death.

He burst through the double doors gracelessly. All eyes turned to him, but Alec only sought out Magnus sitting in the front row. He was dressed in a bottle green suit and black shirt, accentuated with sharp and spiky jewelry of the same colors. His hair was almost violently streaked with emerald, and his smoky makeup made even his glamoured eyes stand out. Magnus’s entire outfit spat in the face of any notion that he was helpless, even if that dangerous look hurt his case.

Alec loved him for it.

Magnus stared at him with his mouth slightly open, and Alec realized that this was a reversal of when Magnus crashed his wedding. It was a fitting comparison. Magnus had saved him then, and Alec was going to return the favor no matter what he had to do.

Lydia blinked, and Alec realized he’d interrupted her. Before he could speak, her face smoothed away her surprise.

“Alec. Wonderful timing.” She turned towards Imogen. “I’d like to call Alec Lightwood to the stand.”

* * *

“So a guy who hates warlocks decided, ‘Hey, I know! Let’s cast a spell on one and see what happens!’” Simon waved a hand through the dust motes in the air. “Tell me I’m not the only one who sees the hypocrisy here.”

“Logic and Valentine don’t often mix,” said Izzy, pulling a book from the shelf and wrinkling her nose as a spider crawled across the cover. “Seriously, could this place _be_ any more cliché? If we find a shrine with Valentine’s unmentionables, I’m volunteering for guard duty.”

“I’ll join you!” Simon’s grin withered at the look Jace sent him. “Or, um, you know. Not.”

“Guys, come on, the trial has to have started by now,” called Clary from the other room.

Graves turned out to be too paranoid to keep any evidence in his apartment. It was that level of meticulous superstition (and, they suspected, Clave interference) that cost Clary and the others the entirety of the week before finally tracking down Graves’s workshop in Queens.

“Unless we find a box labeled _Secret Evil Plan_ with a written confession inside, I don’t see how any of this junk is going to help Magnus,” said Jace. He picked up a bottle full of what looked like bodily fluids. “All we’ve proven so far is the guy was a massive creep.”

“Jace, I love you!”

“Of course you do.” Clary’s words actually registered, and Jace nearly dropped the bottle. “Wait, _what_?”

Clary appeared in a doorway with a box of notebooks and a dazzling grin.

Simon blinked. “No way. No, nuh uh, it can _not_ be that easy. Not after the crap we went through to get here!”

Izzy swatted the back of his head. "By the Angel, don't  _complain_ about it! 

“It was behind a panel in the wall. I don’t see a written confession, but look!” Clary set the box down and opened one of the notebooks. Diagrams and cramped handwriting defaced the pages. “It’s his field notes!”

“Not even the Clave can ignore that,” said Izzy. She shoved the box into the arms of a dumbfounded Jace and dragged him out the door. “Come on, if we hurry we can make it before they come to a verdict.”

* * *

“No further questions,” said Lydia.

Alec held his breath as the prosecution stood up to cross-examine him. He’d spent the last twenty minutes fighting for Magnus, emphasizing in every way he could think of how his boyfriend wasn’t responsible for his actions, reliving every detail of their fight. Alec rubbed his aching leg, trying to mentally prepare himself as best as he could.

The prosecutor was a red-headed woman by the name of Heartwood. She was only an inch or two shorter than Alec, and moved about the courtroom like a shark with blood in the water.

“You say you love this warlock, Alec, is that correct?”

Alec glared at her. “I love _Magnus_ , yes.”

Heartwood gestured toward Magnus and asked, “Then why haven’t you looked at him once this entire time?”

Alec winced at the truth in her words. Once he’d taken the stand, looking at Magnus became unbearable. Alec couldn’t bring himself to watch the emotions play across Magnus’s face as Alec dragged him and the rest of the courtroom through the worst hour of both their lives. It was a cowardly move, made only to protect Alec himself, and now he was about to pay for it.

“Objection!” Lydia cut in.

“Overruled,” Imogen dismissed. She pinned Alec with a piercing look. “Answer the question, Alexander.”

Alec swallowed, and tried to look at Magnus just to prove them wrong. But he couldn’t raise his eyes higher than Magnus’s shoulder. Not with what he was about to say.

“Because I tried to kill him,” Alec whispered.

“You tried to kill him?” Heartwood pressed. “Not simply defend yourself?”

“No. No, I…I swung my blade to kill. Not incapacitate.” Alec rubbed his leg harder, trying to let the pain ground him in the current moment as memories of blood and viscera threatened to overwhelm him.

“Unusual motivation for someone who claims to love another as you do,” said Heartwood. “Why did you want to kill him?”

“I didn’t _want_ to kill him!” Alec snapped. “He was going to kill me. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let him do that.”

Heartwood gestured to Magnus, who’d gone very still in his seat. “But according to you, that wasn’t truly him. So why, based on your own testimony, Alexander, did you try to murder an innocent?”

“You don’t get it!” Alec glared at the courtroom full of Nephilim. All of them would see Magnus dead without losing a second of sleep over it. It disgusted Alec to think he’d once been one of them. “None of you get it.”

“Then explain it,” said Heartwood.

“Objection!” Lydia stood up. “ _How_ is this relevant?”

“If you have a point, councilor, make it,” Imogen suggested.

“I’m merely curious as to the validity of the witness’s testimony.” Heartwood turned to address the room. “Alexander Lightwood claims to love this warlock, but admits to wanting him dead. Could this entire testimony, then, nothing more than an expression of guilt? How can his defense of the warlock be trusted?”

Alec paled with horror. The room began to buzz with murmurs, and Heartwood smiled.

“No more questions, your honor.”

* * *

“You shouldn’t have done that, Alec,” Lydia chastised. She drew an _iratze_ on the discolored skin of Alec’s leg. “You know it’s a miracle you can still walk; running—and I say that loosely—around before you’re ready could easily change that.”

“It’s not that bad,” Alec lied. His leg had seized when he tried to stand up after Imogen called for a ten-minute recess, and it took the combined efforts of Lydia and Magnus to help Alec hobble into a private room so Lydia could roll up his pant leg and inspect the damage.

Alec really wished she hadn’t. Magnus kept _staring_ at the mottled and scarred flesh; when Lydia mentioned how tenuous Alec’s ability to walk was, Magnus actually flinched. It made Alec feel like scum.

_Why haven’t you looked at him once?_

Because Alec was a goddamn coward, that was why.

He needed to say something to Magnus. He needed to apologize for hurting Magnus in every way possible, for  _always_ hurting him, when Magnus had done nothing but improve Alec’s life since the very beginning—

“We’ve got it!”

Simon’s excited shout shattered Alec’s spiral of self-loathing. By the way Magnus jumped, it seemed like he’d been deep in thought as well.

Lydia stood up. “You found something?”

Jace triumphantly dropped a box of notebooks on the desk. “Show these to the Inquisitor. It’s the bastard’s logs about creating the spell.”

“Maybe even a diary in there about his love for Valentine,” said Simon. “Seriously, this dude was a major V-stan.”

“A what?”

“Remind me to send you a song later.”

“ _Guys_.” Izzy snapped her fingers in front of Simon’s face. “The evidence?”

Clary handed Lydia a black notebook, which she immediately began flipping through. “Magnus wasn’t the first. There’s a chart in here, see?” She pointed to a page. “Other test subjects, notes on the spell’s effects on different Downworlders—”

“This is amazing.” Lydia beamed. “I couldn’t have asked for a better defense!”

Alec watched Magnus silently pull another notebook from the box and open it to the first page. His arm jerked in a desperate impulse to snatch it away, but it was too late. Magnus’s eyes went unsettlingly blank, and he slowly closed the book and placed it amongst its fellows. Alec tried to stand again, _damn_ his leg, because Magnus needed someone to remind him that he was so much more than the lines on the paper—he needed someone to remind him that he was _loved_ —

“Easy. You’ve done enough,” said Lydia. “I’ll take it from here.”

Alec looked at the smiles on her and the others’ faces, and wanted to scream. How could they look so satisfied when Magnus’s face was so haunted? How could they say to his face that Alec had _done enough_?

As long as his lover looked like that, Alec hadn’t done a damn thing.

* * *

As the courtroom cleared, Raphael emerged from the shadows in the hallway. Magnus barely acknowledged him, continuing to watch the doors until Alec came out.

“Magnus.” Raphael’s voice was soft, testing the waters. Worried, if Magnus didn’t know any better. Magnus didn’t look at him; he hadn’t looked at anyone but Alexander since he’d burst through the courtroom doors. Since he admitted that his goal was specifically Magnus’s death.

“I’m all right,” he assured Raphael softly. “Happy, even.”

“ _¿Disculpe?”_

Magnus crossed his arms, and tried not to make it look like he was hugging himself. By the way Raphael’s eyes narrowed, Magnus doubted that he was fooled.

“Alec chose himself over me,” he explained. “That’s good. That’s what I would’ve wanted him to do.” Magnus inhaled, deep and slow. Resigned. “I’m proud of him.”

Raphael stared at him like Magnus had grown an extra head. “…He tried to _kill_ you.”

Magnus shrugged. “I tried to kill him first.”

“You heard him! He had other options, but he wanted you dead!” Raphael almost raked a hand through his gelled hair, stopping himself just in time. His hand hovered in the air, helplessly grasping at nothing in a clear desire to strangle someone. “How are you not furious?”

Magnus was many things: shocked, hurt, in pain…but his insides were cold from lack of fury. He finally looked at Raphael, knowing he wouldn’t understand what Magnus was about to say, but having no other answer for him.

“Because I love him.”

Raphael’s hand decided that pinching the bridge of his nose until it paled even further was a decent alternative. “ _Dios_. I will never understand you people.”

Magnus laughed. “You never have.”

Alec walked out of the courtroom, surrounded by Clary, Simon, and his siblings. He appeared to be looking for Magnus, who subconsciously stepped closer to the wall and out of sight.

“Being aro is so much simpler, honestly,” Raphael was saying. He gestured to Alec and the small group around him. “See all this? This is why I don’t do relationships.”

“What about Simon?” Magnus asked.

Raphael looked startled. “What about him?”

Magnus gave him a Look.

 Raphael sighed. “That’s different,” he admitted. “He’s different.”

“Mhm.” Magnus pressed a hand to his stomach wound. Standing and walking for too long still tired him. It throbbed dully, but paled by the pain in Magnus’s heart. “I just want.…”

“What?” Raphael asked when Magnus was silent for too long.

“I want to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Alec and Magnus finally talk.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke laughed, and reached over Alec’s lap to hand him his cane. “‘I’d do anything for him’, remember? So go do something, already.”

“Five days.” Luke handed Alec a hot dog before sitting beside him on the bench. “I didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest.”

Alec looked down at his food, and absentmindedly rubbed his leg. A black cane leaned beside him against the bench. Isabelle had presented it to him yesterday, after Catarina Loss declared his leg strong enough to withstand longer walks. Running and fighting were still distant goals, but he would get there in time. Alec shuddered to think of how long he’d be bedridden if he had to rely on mundane healing.

“I couldn’t be there anymore,” he admitted. “People keep giving me these _looks_ since the trial ended, like I’m some sort of alien just because I didn’t _want_ to kill a Downworlder in cold blood. And Jace and Izzy—I mean, I love them, and I know they mean well, but they haven’t left me _alone_ and—”

“They’re suffocating,” Luke cut him off through a mouth of meat and relish.

Alec nodded, and finally took a bite. “I guess I just wanted to be around someone who didn’t see what happened at the trial.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe not, but, full disclosure, I did hear about it.”

“You and everyone else in the Shadow World,” Alec muttered. He sighed when Luke didn’t reply. Might as well get it over with. “Fine, go ahead. You’ve obviously got questions.”

“Just the one, actually.” Luke wiped a bit of mustard from the side of his mouth. “Why did you really try to kill Magnus?”

Alec nearly dropped the hot dog. “W-what?”

Luke gave him a flat stare. “Alec, please. I’m a cop. I know when someone isn’t telling the full truth.”

“But you weren’t even there!”

Luke shrugged again. “Clary’s perceptive.” He pinned Alec with a Look. “And _you’re_ not denying anything.”

Alec fidgeted in his seat, then sighed. It was probably inevitable that this question would come up sooner or later, and at least Luke wasn’t the gossiping type. There was also a small part of Alec that wanted to tell _someone_ , to justify himself and hear that he’d done the right thing.

“Because if Magnus woke up from the spell to find out that he’d killed me, he’d never forgive himself. He’s only just reopened his heart after Camille, and I just…I thought that if one of us had to live with killing the person they love, it should be me. Magnus has already gone through so much.” Alec looked glumly at the sidewalk; it’d made perfect sense at the time, but saying it out loud made Alec feel foolish. How could he possibly think this was the “right thing”? Magnus was just as dead no matter what Alec’s reasons were.

Luke didn’t say anything for a moment. “So it was a mercy killing?” he eventually asked.

Alec shook his head. “It sure as hell didn’t feel like one. It was more instinctual.” Realizing what he just implied, Alec blanched. “No, I mean, it wasn’t instinct to murder my boyfriend!” A mundane passerby shot him a strange look. Alec flushed, and ducked his head. “It was… it was…”

“It was instinct to deal with the fallout on your own,” Luke guessed. He looked sad; Alec’s confusion must have registered on his face, because Luke added, “It’s a nasty habit of yours, Alec. It serves leaders well, but it breaks people.”

Alec didn’t know what to say to that. He busied himself with his hotdog, even if he’d long since lost his appetite, and the food tasted like rubber on his tongue. “It’s Magnus. I’d do anything for him,” he admitted quietly. Saying things like that still didn’t come easily to him, no matter how much conviction was behind the words.

“Does Magnus know that?”

Alec finished his lunch to stall for time, then began tearing the foil it came in into little pieces. “I haven’t exactly talked to him since the trial.”

Luke set down his food. “Why?”

“He hasn’t contacted me, either.” Alec winced at how childish that sounded. “He probably wants nothing to do with me right now, anyway. Not after what I tried to do.”

“You a mind reader now?”

“He left immediately after the trial ended, Luke!” Small pieces of silver foil fell into Alec’s lap like tears. “You know, the trial where I admitted that I wanted to _kill_ him?”

“You didn’t _want_ to do anything,” Luke argued. “You were both placed in a lose/lose scenario.”

Alec snorted. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No.” Luke shook his head. “I think the only person who can do that is Magnus.”

Alec angrily brushed the remains of the tinfoil off of his lap. “What am I supposed to do? Waltz into his lair and say, ‘Hey Magnus, sorry I tried to murder you while you were trying to murder me, are we cool?’”

“It _is_ an interesting conversation starter.”

Alec groaned, and Luke put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, even if he never forgives you, and that’s a _big_ ‘if’, by the way, don’t you think he at least deserves to hear the whole truth?”

“…You don’t have to sound so reasonable about it,” Alec mumbled.

Luke laughed, and reached over Alec’s lap to hand him his cane. “‘I’d do anything for him’, remember? So go _do_ something, already.”

* * *

“Catarina would flay you alive if she could see you right now,” said Ragnor when Magnus came out of the kitchen with a glass of scotch in his hand.

Magnus barely blinked. Ragnor’s ghost (memory?) had appeared intermittently in Magnus’s apartment for the past five and a half days. He was even waiting for Magnus when he came home from the trial. Magnus was embarrassingly grateful to see his oldest friend, though he’d never admit it. Ragnor didn’t need a swelled head, even in death.

“It’s the only way I can sleep, you know that,” said Magnus, sitting in his armchair. Ragnor was draped across the couch in front of him, still wearing the clothes he died in. Magnus took a drink just to distract himself from _that_ memory.

“How was your meeting?” Ragnor asked.

“Xenia was angry, Josephus was worried, Corbin smoked more than he talked, and Leticia glared at me the whole time,” said Magnus. He waved his glass in a wide arc that sloshed the liquid inside. “The usual, in other words.”

It was Magnus’s first meeting with the other High Warlocks of New York since he returned from the Institute. The idea that a spell existed to turn even the most powerful warlocks into Circle puppets had left Magnus’s people in a state of understandable panic (and anger; Xenia was particularly furious that the bastard had been hiding out in her territory). Even more frightening was the fact that Harlan Graves’s notes were currently on their way to Idris.

Defenses needed to be strengthened, Downworlders needed to be reassured, contingency plans needed to be made, and Magnus drank himself to sleep every night just to get through it all. The scar tissue around his stomach was stretched and uncomfortable, and keeping face in front of his people was exhausting.

All this, and Alec still hadn’t called.

“What is it?” asked Ragnor when Magnus did not immediately drink, but glared into the amber liquid instead.

“I should’ve been stronger,” said Magnus. “What good is all my knowledge and power if I can’t fight off a Circle _reject_?”

“I was killed by a Shax demon,” Ragnor pointed out dryly. “And I’m more powerful than you.”

Magnus snorted. “You are not.”

“Are too.”

The childish response startled Magnus into laughter, and Ragnor grinned victoriously. “Magnus, even High Warlocks, former or otherwise, are not infallible. We can make mistakes; we can be taken by surprise. You’re luckier than I was.” His face soured. “Despite your Shadowhunter’s best efforts to prevent that.”

Ragnor was much less charitable towards Alexander Lightwood for trying to murder Magnus, even if Alec was his lover—perhaps even because of it.

Magnus’s knuckles paled as his hand closed tighter around the glass. Ragnor tilted his head. “What else is bothering you, my friend?”

“I saw Graves’s notes. I know why he chose me to be his guinea pig.” Magnus drank the scotch, needing the burn in his throat to get through this. “It was because I was dating Alexander. Graves thought—correctly, damn him—that it would be easier to lure a Shadowhunter out that way. He didn’t care who I was; he only saw me as a Shadowhunter’s _pet_.”

Magnus slumped back into his chair, growing angrier the more he thought about it. Mind control on its own was often traumatic, but this…this was just insulting. Magnus felt dehumanized, and he wasn’t even completely human.

“Worst of all, it feels like such a selfish thing to be angry about,” he confessed. “I’ve been so happy since Alec opened my heart. To resent that now is…”

“Anger is rarely selfless, my dear,” said Ragnor softly.

Magnus was abruptly overwhelmed by a deep sadness over Ragnor’s death. He was always so good at comforting Magnus when Magnus needed it the most. He wanted nothing more than to rest his head on his friend’s shoulder, perhaps even let Ragnor comb his fingers through Magnus’s hair as he’d done after Camille. That he couldn’t do any of these things made Magnus feel more alone than ever.

His cell phone rang beside him. Magnus sipped more of his scotch, prepared to ignore it—if the warlocks needed something, they could use a portal—until the screen lit up with a very familiar picture.

Alec.

Magnus nearly spit out his drink.

“Speak of the angel,” said Ragnor. He raised an eyebrow when Magnus didn’t pick up the phone. “This is what you wanted, yes?”

“I don’t…” Magnus swallowed. “What do I say?”

“I believe ‘hello’ is the expected opening.”

Magnus glared at him, and the phone fell blessedly silent. It’d gone to voicemail. Magnus sighed, relieved and disappointed, until the phone began to ring again.

“Persistent, isn’t he?” Ragnor drawled.

Magnus closed his eyes, counted to three, and answered the phone before he could think about what he was doing.

“Hello?”

There was a whoosh of static over the line as Alec appeared to sigh. “Magnus.” Just the sound of his name on Alec’s lips made Magnus’s throat close up.

He must have been quiet for too long, because Alec began talking again. “I’m, um, outside the loft. Can I come up? Only if you feel up to it,” he hastily added. “I-I just thought we should talk.”

Magnus shot a slightly panicked look at Ragnor, but the couch was empty. Alec wanted to come up? Why? After everything Magnus did…

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“ _Why_ do you want to talk?” Magnus asked. He couldn’t stop thinking, not about Alec, but the crutches that leaned beside him when he testified at Magnus’s trial. Crutches he only needed because Magnus had nearly incinerated Alec’s leg.

“Magnus, don’t make me do this on the sidewalk,” Alec pleaded. “Look, if you don’t want visitors right now, just tell me and I’ll—”

“No!” Magnus buried his face in his hand, cursing his impulsive answer. Because he _did_ want to see Alec, more than he’d wanted to see anyone before. He wanted, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t trust himself anymore.

Alec didn’t interrupt the silence this time. Magnus sighed, and put on a brusque tone. “Fine, but make it quick. There’ll be a portal at the bottom of the stairs.”

There was a pause, and Magnus hung up so Alec couldn’t hear him groan; of _course_ Alec was surprised that Magnus wasn’t going to let him use the stairs in his condition. The thought did little to help Magnus’s anger as he stalked over to the bar. He nursed the feeling while he looked for a stronger drink. If he was angry at Alec for coming alone, or at all, then it would be easier to get him to leave.

Because Alec _did_ have to leave. Magnus couldn’t trust himself anymore, and this time Alec wasn’t even strong enough to run should Magnus…should he change. Magnus took several deep breaths, fighting down the panic that clawed against his ribs anytime he thought about reverting. There was no evidence that he _would_ , but Magnus couldn’t take the chance. He would protect Alec this time, even if it left deeper scars than the one on Magnus’s stomach.

Magnus chose the strongest vodka he had as the portal opened. He could do this. He just had to get Alec out the door as soon as possible.

His resolve almost crumbled on the spot the moment Magnus looked at Alec. He was a vision; a beautiful, healthy, _living_ vision, and Magnus’s heart swelled with love and the desire to get Alec back in his arms as soon as possible. Then Magnus saw the slim, sturdy cane that Alec was using to take the pressure off of his injured leg, and the feeling passed.

No matter how badly Magnus’s heart wanted Alec to stay, it wanted to protect him even more.

“Magnus,” Alec whispered, looking like the sight of Magnus had knocked the wind out of him. He began to limp closer, but Magnus stepped back, hiding behind the bar like a shield. Devastation painted Alec’s face as he froze. Magnus swallowed.

“Well, here you are. Say your piece.” The alcohol splashed as Magnus accidentally poured too much into the glass. He cursed, cleaning up the mess with a wave of his hand.

“I…I just wanted to see you,” said Alec, sounding helplessly lost in the face of Magnus’s severity. Good.

“You said you wanted to _talk_ ,” Magnus corrected him. He drank from his too-full glass, not bothering to mix anything. “Was it to ask my forgiveness? Because you have it.”

Alec blinked in bewilderment. “I do?”

“I understand necessity, Alexander,” said Magnus in his most lofty tone. “I attacked, you defended. No hard feelings.”

“Magnus…”

He grimaced, unable to stand the tender look on Alec’s face. “Was that all? I have appointments to keep.”

Alec’s mouth dropped open. “You’re meeting _clients_?”

“I’m meeting _warlocks_ ,” Magnus snapped. “Warlocks who are _quite_ alarmed by recent events. What do you think I’ve been doing for the past five days? Waiting by the phone for your call?”

Alec winced, and Magnus sneered. “High Warlock isn’t an empty title, Alec. My people look to me for protection, protection that I must convince them I’m still able to provide after all this. Do you even understand the implications of what happened? If Valentine decides that a Downworlder suicide squad sounds appealing, or if the _Shadowhunters_ get any ideas—”

“They wouldn’t!”

“ _You_ wouldn’t. And that’s noble of you, but Alexander, the rest of us have _thousands of years_ of experience to prove that this is a serious threat. Mind control is…”

Magnus’s throat closed up. He leaned more heavily against the bar, grateful beyond words that Alec couldn’t see his legs begin to shake. There was a reason mind control was seen as taboo among warlocks. There was a reason they found the vampires’ _encanto_ so appalling. It was assault of the most invasive kind, a defilement that most never fully recovered from. Just remembering it had Magnus gulping for air and changing the liquid in his glass—vodka, whiskey, wine—little spells just to prove that he was still in control.

“Was it…that bad?” Alec asked hesitantly. He respected Magnus’s earlier wish and did not try to approach, though by the way his hand was flexing on the top of his cane, it was clear he ached to do _something_.

The sharp, bitter sound that Magnus made would be considered a laugh only in a child’s nightmare. He didn’t look up from his glass.

“‘That bad’?” Magnus mocked. “Was I aware, do you mean? I was, and was not. It wasn’t like I was watching everything behind my own eyes like a movie screen. Nothing so benign.”

Once Magnus started, he couldn’t stop. The words flowed from him like he was being purged. The alcohol fizzled in the glass.

“I didn’t know what was going on outside of me, but inside? I was being _torn apart_ inside. Everything I am was unraveled; the very core of me was dirtied and used for something I didn’t want. My body, my mind, my magic – none of it was mine anymore. I was an invader in my own body, and everything inside was attacking me, trying to wipe me out until _he_ had complete control.” Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose, and was appalled to feel wetness beading in the corners of his eyes. “I fought. God, I fought _so_ hard, but I _lost_. And when I woke up, I was like a half-finished puzzle. Pieces of me are _gone_ , Alec, I can feel the yawning pits under my skin, they grow every time I move, and when I close my eyes…!”

Magnus stopped, breathing hard. He didn’t realize his voice had become louder, words rushing together in blind terror. Droplets of water resting on the bar indicated that tears had escaped despite Magnus’s efforts. Alec looked stricken.

“…The only thing that doesn’t remind me of the smell of burning flesh is a drink,” Magnus quietly admitted. “My magic and my mind…when all else was taken from me, I had them. Now I have nothing. I cannot— _will not—_ allow any warlock to go through such a thing.”

“Magnus…”

He exploded.

“Why are you _HERE_?” Magnus slammed his hands on the counter, feeling teardrops smear under his palms. Alec jumped. “I almost _killed_ you! I could try again for all you know! What are you _thinking_ , coming here without protection after what I—I _used_ you, Alec! I betrayed your trust, I exploited our relationship to lure you to that park, I did _that_!” He pointed wildly at Alec’s leg. “How can you stand being in the same _room_ with me right now?!”

“Because I love you!” Alec shouted. He stepped closer once more, and this time Magnus was too frozen to move. At the trial, it hadn’t felt real. Just something else the Nephilim lawyer could twist and pollute. Now the full force of Alec’s emotion was directed at Magnus, and he couldn’t move. “Because _you_ didn’t do any of those things! Graves did! This isn’t about how strong you are, or what you could’ve done differently, or what you _did_ do—this isn’t your fault, Magnus. I never once thought it was.”

“Then why did you try to kill me?” Magnus asked helplessly.

“Because I didn’t want _this_ ,” Alec waved a hand between them, “to happen. I didn’t want you to wake up to find you’d killed someone you lo—cared about.”

Alec fidgeted, and Magnus stared at him. Did Alec truly not think Magnus loved him?

“I know you, Magnus,” Alec continued. “I know what that would do to you. Look at you now, and that’s when I’m _alive_! If I hadn’t…” He sucked in a shaky breath. His eyes were fever-bright. “Hurting you like that is the single worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’d never forgive myself if I killed you. I’d spend the rest of my life trying to atone, and fail.”

“I don’t understand,” Magnus whispered.

“You’ve lost so much. I haven’t. Not yet at least. Between the two of us, if someone had to live with the other’s blood on their hands…I couldn’t let it be you. I didn’t want you to die, Magnus. But it was the only way I could see to…to save you. You’ve gone through too much already.”

Alec hunched over, leaning almost entirely on his cane. Magnus was horrified to hear tears breaking up Alec’s voice. “But it was stupid, it was a stupid move. I should’ve fought harder; I should’ve found a way to save us both. I panicked and I hurt you and I’m sorry, Magnus, I’m _so fucking sorry_ …!”

Magnus rounded the bar just as Alec lurched forward. They crashed together in a desperate embrace. Alec’s hands fisted in the back of Magnus’s shirt, his cane clattering to the ground; Magnus supported Alec’s weight without thought, pulling Alec so close that their stomachs pressed tightly together.

“I’m sorry,” Alec sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ …”

“Sssh.” Magnus took Alec’s face between his hands, kissing him over and over. “I love you.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you anymore!”

“I hurt you first.”

“Don’t.” Alec pulled back, his face blotchy and still so beautiful. “Don’t do that. This isn’t—”

“Your fault,” Magnus finished, pulling Alec back in for a kiss. Alec sagged against him, and Magnus lowered them both to the ground, turning so Alec could lean against the back of the couch. Alec cocooned Magnus between his long legs, never once removing his mouth from Magnus’s. Every kiss was an apology; every squeeze was an _I love you_.

When it was over, Magnus had his back pressed against Alec, with his own knees pulled up to his chest. Alec’s arms rested atop them as he hugged Magnus from behind, burying his face in, and occasionally kissing, Magnus’s hair.

“Now what?” he murmured thickly.

“We endure.”

Alec’s laugh was hoarse. “That’s it?”

“You take what’s unbearable and you bear it, Alexander,” Magnus whispered. Strangely, he wasn’t so exhausted anymore. “That’s all.”

Alec entwined their fingers. “Together,” he said.

Magnus pressed Alec’s knuckles to his lips. “Together, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Thank you to everyone who read this story and left kudos, comments, or a bookmark. I love you all. <3
> 
> MVP award goes to [Siri](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius) for beta reading and cheerleading; without her this fic wouldn't exist.


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